“He’s your father.”
“I don’t need reminding.” Kate still couldn’t manage to meet Maya’s eyes.
“I’d probably do anything for my dad too.”
“That’s different. Harris is a prince among parents. He’s a gem.”
Maya got to her feet and came around her desk. “Kate, you’re not your father. Would your father quit his job to protect you?”
Kate screwed up her face, trying to imagine such a scenario. “He wouldn’t even stay in the same town so I could finish out a school year.”
“Exactly. You’re one of the best, most loyal people I know. You always act like you’re some bad seed. I was there for Naughty Kate. You were never bad. You sure as jeebus aren’t bad now. Ever think maybe you should stop seeing yourself that way?”
Finally Kate allowed herself to look her friend in the eye. The easy acceptance she saw there made her want to cry. Of all the people she’d ever known, Maya was one of those she respected the most. They used to have so much fun together, laughing until they cried. Her biggest teenage regrets were the times she’d gotten Maya into trouble with her father.
“Would I be best friends with a bad seed?” Maya demanded.
“Very unlikely,” Kate agreed with a smile. “If you were, you’d straighten her out before she got out of high school.”
“Oh no, that wasn’t me.” Maya shook her head firmly. “You did that, Kate. Stop beating yourself up. And start confiding in your goddamn friends. Trust us.”
Kate tapped a finger on her chin. “Funny, Darius said almost exactly the same thing. Except he wasn’t dressed when—”
“Okay, you don’t have to confide that much.”
As they walked through the corridor after she’d left Maya’s office, Dylan let out a breath of relief. “Whoa. She’s such a badass.”
“That she is. But she has a fun side too. She’s one of my best friends. Do you want to see where Darius works? The fire department is in the other wing of this building.”
He made an uneasy face. “I don’t think so. The other firemen…”
They reached the exit and pushed out into the sunshine. A yellow fire engine filled one side of the lot, drying in the open air. It gleamed in the bright midday light.
“That’s the one that came to the farm last night,” Dylan said.
“Is it?” The fire engines all looked the same to her.
He bit his lower lip, looking even younger than fifteen. “It was terrible, what I did. S.G. thinks I should do something to say I’m sorry. She offered me her knife to carve something but I don’t know how.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Kate said quickly. The last thing she wanted was Dylan in possession of a weapon when he was already on thin ice. “What else could you make? Or do?”
“I’m pretty good at cooking. I used to work at my stepdad’s restaurant.”
“Well, one thing I know for sure is that firefighters love to eat. What else?”
“I play guitar.”
“Really? Did you know that Darius is a fantastic bass player?”
“He is?” His pale face lit up until he looked almost like a regular excited kid.
“Oh yeah. And let me tell you, there’s nothing quite as attractive to the girls as a guy playing music. Just something to think about.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend. My life is very complicated right now.”
His serious tone nearly made her burst out laughing. That line could have come straight from the mouth of a twice-divorced fire chief.
Maybe it was another thing that ran in the family.
But she knew Darius better now, and she understood that his wariness came from being a romantic at heart. A wounded romantic.
She was the jaded one who’d never really allowed herself to get close to someone.
But now she was getting drawn in, bit by bit, day by day. Body part by body part. First all her naughty bits had fallen under Darius’ spell. Now her brain was tied up with Darius and his new son.
What if her heart came next? Would that really be so bad?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Darius quickly fell into a routine with Dylan. The boy would sleep in and make his own breakfast. Then he’d walk to the firehouse and put in some time doing community service with the crew. When that was completed, Darius would drive him to Petal to the Metal, where he did whatever Emma required.
Often he would spot Kate at the peony farm, and they’d have a quick conversation along the lines of:
“Can I come up tonight?”
“l’ll leave the deadbolt off. Key’s under the mat.”
In the evenings, Darius would make dinner with Dylan—they both liked to cook. Sometimes Kate would come downstairs to eat with them. Later, after Dylan had fallen asleep on the couch, Darius would slip out the door and tiptoe up the stairs to Kate’s. And they’d spend the next few hours devouring each other and talking late into the night.
They talked about everything—his fears about suddenly being a father; her bad-girl teenager years; his love for the blues and especially Muddy Waters; the frustration and entertainment of being the daughter of Frank Robinson; why he’d become a fireman—with no family in the works, he’d channeled his protective nature into firefighting; what she missed about LA—mostly it seemed to come down to brunch, for some reason.
He hadn’t felt this close to anyone for a very long time. It helped to share his worries about Dylan—how to take care of him, how to get the town to accept him after what he’d done, how to connect with him.
As for Kate, she finally seemed to completely trust him. She no longer talked about leaving, and he liked that. A lot.
Tonight, sleepy-eyed, she opened the door for him wearing the sexiest little sleep tank and shorts he’d ever seen.
He slipped inside and slid his hand onto her ass. Those shorts were just too tempting. Her skin warmed through the thin fabric.
All day long, as he and his crew sat through a session on preparing for biohazard emergencies, he’d looked forward to this moment.
Her smooth curves settled under his hands as if some cosmic sculptor had created her ass and his hands as one perfect work of art. “God, I missed you.”
Against his chest, her body vibrated with laughter. “You saw me at lunchtime.”
“That was hours ago. Let me feel that skin. I need my hands on you. I need to feel you.” His voice was low and urgent. Sometimes his need for Kate shocked him, but he blocked out the alarm bells.
He didn’t care if this was risky, or if he was sliding down a slippery slope into a different kind of relationship. Right now he wanted her and he needed her and she wasn’t objecting. Not at all.
She hooked one leg around the back of his thigh. He felt the radiant heat of her pussy press against him. With a chest-deep groan, he gripped her ass cheek and rotated her against him.
Her nipples hardened under that skimpy little top. He looked down and saw the dark peaks push against the nearly see-through cotton. Her top clung so erotically to the full mounds of her breasts that the saliva dried up in his mouth.
He cupped them in his hands, with the feeling that he was filling himself up with everything he needed. Touch, release, glory, hope. And sexy, sensual woman.